Bring Me Back

Where did the poet in me go? Where did the warrior hide? Where has time taken me? Where am I?

It’s been too long since I poured out what I felt into a piece of writing or poetry. There used to be days when I wrote at least two poems a day and now I am empty. This emptiness! It puzzles me. Where I am today, was my choice. And why I don’t feel the joy now, is unaccountable.

I am not strong enough or was I never? These are the questions that creep into my brain when I lay void of what is called sanity.

No, the stars don’t seem to amaze me anymore. Friends, they are all taken away. Smiles, seem very artificial. I question myself, why am I this way? Who do I go to? Who do I talk to? If I were any different, why do I need to?

Gone are the days when little things made me smile. Perhaps even those little things are desperately moving away from me leaving me in tranquility. This empty space, this time zone where nothing seems to be real anymore is the reason why poetry denied entry into my life. This is flawed.

The scattered ideas of what my life should have been are more painful than the heartache that slides in every now and then when I think of what exactly I am doing with my life. The ideologies that I shared a few months back, the reasoning I gave to people who were actually inspired by me, nothing seem to make any sense to me anymore. Is this what they call “losing oneself “?

I want those days back when I could smile despite things troubling me deep down. I want that me back who could calm a noisy room with the loud, powerful, daring words that came out of my mouth. I want those days back when more people around me believed in me. I want it all back. I want that day back when I foolishly made choices and now- now I want to change it all. I want to go back and reprimand myself real hard and talk to myself and explain to myself that life is more than what I thought it was.

I have to do this for the bard in me to wake up and drag me to a pen and paper and force me to jot down that melody that no one but I can write. I want that impossible flow of ideas and words to fill me once again. I want that passionate lover of arts to come back to me. I want that DINAH to regenerate herself inside me. She is the only one who can find and rejuvenate what I have lost. I will bring me back. I will.

Follow Aakanksha Dinah 

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